


fever treatment

by cdra



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Breeding, Canon-Typical Thick Dragon Tail, Cloaca, F/M, Hermaphroditic Dragon Transformations?, Kink Meme, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, Trans Female Character, questionable life choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24816178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdra/pseuds/cdra
Summary: GBF Kink Meme fill for the following prompt:The dragon's blood has given Siegfried a few interesting new characteristics, one of which is this urge to find a strong mate, someone who can really breed him the way he wants.Unfortunately, the person he's had his eye on is Djeeta; he's tried to bear with it & deal with his heat cycles alone, but when she comes to the door of his room one day, trying to see what's wrong...
Relationships: Djeeta/Siegfried (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





	fever treatment

**Author's Note:**

> this prompt walked into my house and kicked over my buckets and called me a siegfried whore, about which it is correct. cause I mean the bonus text...
> 
> "(Just to be clear, i'd like djeeta to have a dick in this, but I don't have any preferences for whether you do mpreg or just give siegfried some kinda fucked up dragon pussy. go wild.)  
> (extra bonus points if you play up the breeding angle/have one or both of them know it's a Bad Idea but be unable to stop)"
> 
> smh, when you give me a prompt that just explicitly says "FUCK GENDER CONSTRUCTS make them trans make them have unusual genitalia combinations just go fucking nuts" my braincells, in fact, go fucking nuts. and thus this was written almost entirely because the phrase "some kind of fucked up dragon pussy" stayed in my brain for days. which has nothing to do with my crewmates previously talking about "siegfried's drussy" i'm sure. definitely. pensive.png
> 
> ANYWAY DJEETA'S TRANS HERE but she likes her dick and calls it a dick/cock/etc. my djeeta's always been like this, like sometimes I write a cis djeeta too but this particular gremlin transfemme djeeta who's poly with everyone in her crew and has definitely boned most of them on some occasion is My Danchou. meanwhile siegfried has some kind of weird dragon pussy cloaca thing and also a dragon dick and big thick dragon tail BECAUSE NO ONE STOPS ME FROM DOING THESE THINGS, MY CREW JUST ENABLES ME NO MATTER HOW CHAOTIC I GET--- *gets dragged away by the crew server goblins to prep for GW*

The dragon’s blood burns like a curse, one that won’t simply be cleared away by the right spell—it rakes through his veins and claws at his head and nearly leaves him in tatters. It has a mind of its own, and were Siegfried not so steel of will it would’ve surely pushed him to something he’d regret by now. It reminds him, because of course he can’t simply _forget_ even in the safety of his room, buried in a glob of his bedsheets, how Djeeta’s scent was just so perfect, so tempting, and if he submitted himself to her then _surely—_

No, he reminds himself sternly. Siegfried pulls the bedsheets over his head and draws in long, desperate breaths. If he entertains those thoughts too long, they may get the better of him yet.

“Siegfried?” a voice at his door calls, rattling his thoughts—and simultaneously charring them to ash. Djeeta’s voice—the animal in his blood howls, pained by hunger, and its thrashing makes Siegfried’s temples throb. “Are you okay? You seemed really… unwell, earlier…”

He’s on his feet before he can think to stop himself, the dragon’s blood tugging hard at his puppet strings; he’s still got his sheets wrapped around his body, as if that would somehow make the shivering lessen when it seems to be caused by heat more than cold. Fluid drips down his thigh hotly, and he inhales with a shudder; the thick, black-scaled tail that’s appeared at his backside flicks impatiently, and thin patterns of gold and red shimmer along its sides in the dim window-light. “It will pass,” he says, a bit more curt than he intended. “It’s just… the dragon’s blood.” Just that. Not a heat, not a desperate urge to be filled and fucked and bred—just the blood, simple as that.

Djeeta sighs, and Siegfried can clearly envision her bouncing on her heels, worried and just a little annoyed. “Are you trying to push me away, Siegfried? Remember, I promised I’d help you if it… got bad,” she utters, low and serious and unfortunately clueless. “And _you_ promised you wouldn’t try to do everything alone anymore.”

Her scent addles his mind and leaves him reeling—his bare feet drag him closer to the door against his good sense. “It’s not like that,” he says, unconvincing and unconvinced, “I just need…” Some time? Some space? The flimsy half-answer to what he’d wanted to say doesn’t quite come; his brain feels like it’s full of lint.

“Whatever you need, I’ll do my best to help—you know that,” Djeeta says sweetly, honestly. If she knew what she was saying, she wouldn’t say it—or if Siegfried could convince himself not to take those words at face value, perhaps disaster would be averted. Despite how he digs his claws into his biceps in an effort to convince, though, his blood speaks only of _need._

With her usual sort of recklessness Djeeta presses the door open and peeks inside—if it were locked, Siegfried’s sure she’d have a key regardless. She’s met with the mess Siegfried is, hair wildly matted, skin flushed and flecked with black scales, body wrapped up in blankets, wide eyes more reptilian than ever in how they shimmer gold and stare unblinking beneath hooked horns. She looks the same as ever, but in his eyes, she looks more beautiful than anything he’s seen before—strong, confident, everything he could need in a _mate._

For a second he gasps, open-mouthed, and she looks at him with concern on her brow. His tongue goes dry and his teeth itch, a little too big for his jaw; his gut throbs low, hungry.

 _“...You,”_ Siegfried says, his voice low and dark and hardly human; before Djeeta can quite ask what that _meant_ (though her owlish blinking asks for her), Siegfried finds himself grasping her wrist and pulling close, her hand to his chest and her body tantalizingly close.

“Siegfried—?” Djeeta wiggles in place and frowns in confusion, but with her palms against his chest so they can feel his heart pounding and her eyes meeting the smokey lust in his gaze, it clicks. “Oh. _Oh,”_ she stammers, understanding yet understandably baffled; Siegfried’s chest rumbles and he lowers his head.

He shakes his head, though it doesn’t come clear. “Sorry, I…” he starts, but not without instinctively shifting so that their hips touch. Somehow, just that simple touch is comforting; his tail swishes back and forth slowly, expectantly. “The blood… seems it caused a sort of heat cycle, and I…” He’s losing his grip as the seconds tick by, slipping like sand between his fingers—but Djeeta is calm, despite the pink blush on her cheeks.

“So... you’re telling me I can literally fuck some sense back into you?” she says blithely, grin catlike. Siegfried blinks at her in both disbelief and relief. The young captain sighs; her fingers stray upward to cup Siegfried’s scale-pocked cheek, and he leans into them gladly. “Honestly, and here I was thinking this was going to be hard—or, well, _unfun,_ at least.” Her eyes are soft, despite the mischief in her tone; Siegfried groans and tugs on the sheets he’s still wrapped up in.

“Ah... if you say things like that...” he whispers, one hand resting against the wall behind her as he leans down to her height, “I fear I won’t have it in me... to…”

Djeeta silences him with her usual fearlessness, simply pulling him down into a kiss and _gods_ , that alone could melt his mind. Her lips against his and her fingers in his hair say not to bother resisting it, to just let her handle this, and the submissive instinct that’s clawing at his head is overjoyed to acquiesce. The sheets slip from his shoulders and drip into a heap around his ankles, over the tip of his tail; his hands, a little too rigid and sharp, rest on her shoulders compliantly.

Intimidating as the figure he cuts is, Siegfried’s touch is more that of a domestic pet than a wild animal—his grip is demure and needy despite the claws that prick at Djeeta’s shirt. Understanding the message, she slips into the lead, with her nails easing up his scalp and her knee nudging between his legs. Siegfried whines low and ruts back against her thigh; the stiff bulge of his erection is thoroughly obvious beneath the thin cloth of his lounging pants.

So, she pulls her lips back to right her footing; her breaths fall audible, and a little warm. Her fingertips press against his chest and she shifts her weight into Siegfried, suggestive. “The bed, Siegfried—you’ve been waiting too long already, haven’t you?”

A low rumble, agreeable, echoes in his chest. He follows her motions easily, like there was simply no choice but to do so, until he falls back against the bed, now bereft of its coverings save the fitted sheet and one lonely, simple pillow. “Djeeta,” he pants, his palms grasping and clawing at her back as he pulls her close, between his legs. “Just _touching_ you is—enough to affect it… I…”

“I got you,” she says, like this really isn’t _too_ strange and she could probably handle anything the world threw at her—and maybe she could. Siegfried’s seen her do it time and time again, after all. “I’ll take care of you, alright?” Djeeta’s hands slide beneath his shirt; with a little pushing and pulling, she manages to get him to move his lead-weight arms so that she can get it off along with her own.

The prickle of his claws against her bare skin makes her breath hitch as he grabs at her with all the finesse of a sleepy cat. She obliges the little displays of urgency with another kiss, deeper this time; his teeth part willingly for her, and she unconsciously finds herself examining the little fangs he’s developed with her tongue. His tongue, when it meets hers, is longer than ought to fit in his mouth—it’s all fascinating, and _new_ even for Djeeta with all her impossible experiences.

With Siegfried’s hands distracted with her hair, her own fingers find the opportunity to get her pants out of the way; it’s not exactly a _shock_ when the hot, flushed head of her cock hits the comparatively-cool air hard and ready, but she finds herself inhaling sharply anyway. How could she _not_ get hard, when Siegfried’s so—so _many_ things, so handsome and wrecked and touchy and adorably wanting, and more? It’s too much, even.

His trousers come next, half-off that they already are to accommodate the girth of his tail, and she revels in how he gives a shivery breath when ner nails scrape over his hips. Siegfried lifts his hips and flattens his tail to make it easy; Djeeta breaks away from the kiss for a moment to look down, and also to catch her breath in slow gasps as Siegfried pants hungrily.

Her gaze meets his cock, unashamed and reddish with both flush and a trail of little scales up the sides—the curve of it is strong, and the shape is thick but not precisely _typical_ of a human’s, the shaft bulging too much just before the base. “Woah… what a pretty dick,” Djeeta hums breathily, her hand gliding down to grasp it loosely—just as she does, though, she pauses and blinks. Siegfried whines and rocks his hips upwards into her hand, but Djeeta’s thoughts are left reeling by the drooling, needy _slit_ positioned beneath Siegfried’s cock.

It’s not exactly a human pussy, more of a pink, fleshy gap situated between the broad scales that decorate Siegfried’s inner thighs and the base of his tail—but as his hips jerk, the wet flesh between his legs twitches and throbs with want, its purpose plenty clear. “Huh. So… I guess I don't need to ask if you have lube or not, huh,” is what she says, her expression oddly nonplussed despite how the gears in her brain spin wildly.

“Djeeta, please—” Siegfried groans, his tongue hanging from his mouth as he pants harshly. “It feels so— _empty_ , please…” The combination of sensations is maddening, her unmoving palm against his cock a terrible tease; he’s not sure how long he can keep his head in some semblance of an order.

“I told you—I’ve got you,” she assures him; to make her point, not only does she experimentally pump her wrist to jerk him off, but her other hand joins in to shove a couple of fingers into his willing hole. It’s like flipping a switch; Siegfried bucks and cries out, and his back arches tight as he desperately seeks more. There’s drool on his chin and his thighs are totally wet, and his muscular tail is winding its way around her leg—Djeeta’s eyes go blown as she watches how he twists and writhes under her touch.

Siegfried’s normally so strong, so serious, so _perfect_ —but right now, he’s a beautiful mess beneath her, a little man and a little monster, shimmering with sweat on scales and wriggling desperately. The contrast is hot, not that he isn’t hot to start with, and—she snaps out of her reverie when he gives an animalistic little keen and grabs her wrist.

“Your _cock_ ,” he manages, barely, with a voice that’s half growl and half whimper. “Can’t… wait anymore, please…”

“Ah. Sorry,” she breathes, slipping her fingers out of Siegfried’s draconic cunt to instead hold his thighs stable. Her other hand finds purchase on his waist and she lines herself up easily; the curiosity as to how he’ll _feel_ makes her own dick twitch.

With how slick he is, burying herself inside of him in one motion is easy—his insides are so hot they’re nearly molten, not to mention the texture is unlike anything she’s fucked before. Djeeta has to pause to catch her breath, and Siegfried’s nowhere-gaze says that he’s doing the same. “Are you okay, Siegfried? Too much?” she asks softly, teeth worrying at her lip.

“More,” he growls hoarsely in response, eyes glassy as they attempt to meet hers; the pupils are blown wide, but they’re slits more than circles, and the color of his irises is such a bright gold that they nearly glow. He sees more stars than he does walls of the room, but he can see _her_ —the _mate_ he’s been craving, heavy and hard inside of him, and for as much as he’d tried to keep some sense of restraint, that feeling alone has already consumed him outright.

Djeeta mutters some kind of agreement and steadily begins to rock her hips; the way Siegfried gasps and claws at the sheets is as overblown as it is hypnotic. “ _More_ , hurry—” His claws shift to rove her back instead, digging red lines into her skin; Djeeta shudders at the not-quite-pain of it and picks up her pace.

“Hah… Feels like I’m melting…” she gasps as she curls closer to his chest; his walls clench and pulse around her with each thrust, pulling her in deeper. Djeeta laughs breathlessly; “This is just crazy…” she mutters knowingly—even so, her rhythm only escalates as the sticky seconds tick by.

Siegfried’s expression is nothing short of wrecked, and his voice isn’t any less so. “Djeeta, _fuck_ —” comes a throaty whine, uncharacteristically raw and guttural, “Need—need more, deeper—” His grip gets tighter and she’s inadvertently pulled down, flush against his chest; his heart’s beating frantically, not that hers is much better off. She gives him what he asks, adjusting so she can continue to slam into him from a new angle; even though the tiny voice of concern in the back of her mind keeps getting louder, she knows there’s no real point entertaining it when she couldn’t possibly stop _now_.

His tongue devolves into nonsense, just a babble of heated words—but Djeeta has to pause for a moment when she hears _“breed me”_ among them. She slows her hips to catch her breath and gather her thoughts; Siegfried only pulls her closer and pants all the harder.

“Siegfried, you—” she gasps, her teeth sinking into her lip—there’s not much point in being cautionary when she’s already balls-deep in Siegfried’s dragon-pussy, so she may as well play out her part, here. “You’re gripping me so tight—you seriously want me to knock you up, huh?”

The pillow-talk sounds a little strange on her tongue—strange, but equally arousing, especially when Siegfried just grinds his hips upward and whimpers some kind of garbled agreement. “Mate me—fill me, more…!” His frenzied drivel continues, husky and feverishly heated; Djeeta’s grip on his thigh tightens and her nails dig into the skin just above his hip, scraping over intermittent scales as they go. His cock is stiff and hot between them, and she can feel it throbbing against her belly as she fucks him.

There’s a fuzz in Djeeta’s thoughts, as though this is merely some surreal, lust-addled dream; she buries her full length inside of Siegfried with each thrust, and his chest rumbles with beastly satisfaction as his breath catches in his throat. “ _Fuck_ —yeah, I got you, I got you,” she gasps rhythmically; one hand lifts to caress his face again, and Siegfried graciously leans into the touch, eyes vacant and mouth gaping with each breath.

“I’ll give you what you want, okay? I’ll breed you just like you need, just—just a little more,” Djeeta finds herself muttering as Siegfried’s legs wrap around her hips and pull her into a strong, desperate embrace; his tail, length and as muscular as the rest of him, joins in coiling around her waist and her leg in some serpentine tangle. Her cock throbs, close, as she continues to fuck him shallowly despite his clinging.

The moment Djeeta feels her release burst through her nerves, she hears Siegfried all but _howl_ as he tugs her close; his walls seize as if trying to milk her climax to the fullest, and considering how her vision goes speckled with stars, it seems to be working. Everything seems to spin, and for Siegfried it’s no different; all of the itching and burning and _needing_ his body had been doing goes silent in an instant, replaced by sheer satisfaction and pleasure pulsing through his every synapse.

He gives a long sigh, worn but satisfied; Djeeta’s breath comes shallow and sharp. The tense claws pressing into her back go slack, holding her close with their weight alone. The heat and the aftershocks take their time dissipating, Siegfried’s cunt still throbbing as it greedily takes in each diminishing spurt of Djeeta’s seed; it feels _absurdly_ good, though truly, she finds that every bit of this has been perfectly insane to begin with.

After a moment, she looks up at him again; his eyes are heavy-lidded and gratified, and his chest is beginning to rumble with a low, purring sound, which Djeeta finds oddly cute, all things said. “All better?” she asks; Siegfried merely nuzzles into her chest in response. As she pulls out and shifts to lie beside him, he doesn’t let go of her for even a second, but instead merely keeps his arms around her and pliantly rolls onto his side as well.

It’s her turn to sigh, now, a muddled combination of puzzled and glad it’s over and still glowing with pleasure. She runs her fingers through the messy tangles of Siegfried’s long hair, pondersome and affectionate, and smiles softly at how he gives a comfortable hum in return.

“I, uh… hope you can’t _actually_ get pregnant,” Djeeta mumbles to herself; he’s already half-asleep, her words far away, and she figures he’s in no state to chat. “But, well… at least you seem to be feeling better…” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and lets the exhaustion creep up on her thoughts; the tip of his tail twitches behind her back like that of a sated cat.

Well, whatever madness may come, she’s sure it won’t be harder to deal with than saving the world tens of times over—just as long as it isn’t miserable for Siegfried, that is. Reassuring herself silently that she’ll find a way to keep his body’s shifts and instincts from being more an ordeal than they have to be, she lets herself drift into a light slumber, gladly using Siegfried’s natural warmth as her blanket and pillow.


End file.
